


A Warm Safe Place

by WaywardAF67



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Wings, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean's POV, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Northern Lights, Sam Ships It, Snow Storm, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-28 22:38:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17191577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardAF67/pseuds/WaywardAF67
Summary: Sam was going to be out of the bunker for a few days and called Cas home to ensure Dean wouldn't be snowed in alone. The pair got to spend a quality night together where they gorged themselves on snacks, watched Dean's favorite movie, and oh yeah Cas accidentally recreated the northern lights. Dean was very impressed.





	A Warm Safe Place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [waywarded](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywarded/gifts).



> Here is my entry for the Profound Bond Gift Exchange. My giftee is waywarded and she had a few requests that I was unable to fill. Sorry, I can't write angst and hurt/comfort wanted to be there, but she couldn't make it either. But I got some of it in there "...two people who love each other completely out of touch with the rest of the world but connected to each other, space, wintry nightsky, northern lights, quietly snuggling, fireplace noises, snowangels, experiencing breathtakingly beautiful things for the first time, do these count as tropes, i fail, first snow, forests"
> 
> Thanks to EllenOfOZ for the quick proofread. 
> 
> And of course thanks to the mods.

“Goddamit, Sam you can’t just leave in the middle of the world ending to go get laid,” Dean barked.

“That’s real rich, Dean. You go out and get laid every single time the world is ending, so don’t give me your shit. Don’t be mad at me because you’re too scared to go after what you want and I’m not.” Sam hefted his duffle bag higher up on his shoulder. He leveled Dean with a bitchface like no other.

“You’re not even making sense.” Dean’s denial was so strong he couldn’t even understand what Sam was talking about.

“Right,” the younger Winchester gave an exasperated huff. “Look, just call Cas and make him watch Die Hard with you. I’m heading up to Eileen’s cabin. I’ll be back in a few days.”

Dean jerked back at the slamming of the bunker door and pointlessly called out, “You better not be taking my car.” He knew Sam wouldn’t take the Impala, but he had to have the last word.

Stupid little brother wanting to have a stupid girlfriend. Didn’t he know dating someone was the fasted way to get them killed? Of all people, Samuel Keith Winchester knew what happened when you got involved on the job.

Dean laughed out loud at his own joke. Years ago Sam had told him about the waitress who thought his name was Keith Sam when they separated for a short time, and for some reason, the name just stuck. He only used it when he wanted to annoy Sam, and if he were here, Dean would spend the day making every pop culture reference he knew involving the name Keith. Oh, and there were plenty. Keith Richards, Keith Urban, Keith Sweat, Keith Scott from One Tree Hill––really the list was endless.

Dean chuckled as he turned and headed back to the library. Just because Sam wasn’t here didn’t mean the research stopped. But it would dramatically decrease, and that’s what Dean was annoyed about. It wasn’t jealousy at all—not one bit.

He had just sat down with a book on Banshees when he heard the tell-tale creak of the bunker door opening. Ha! His dumb little brother finally realized now wasn’t the time for a National Lampoon's Christmas vacation.

They had had work to do after all.

Dean smiled smugly, not raising his eyes from his book. He always was one for theatrics. “So what happened to your romantic weekend getaway? She finally realize what a nerd you are?”

“I was never on a romantic getaway.”

Dean’s head jerked up at the husky voice responding to him. Cas stood at the top of the stairs with a coupl’a pizza boxes, a case of Del Sol, a grocery sack hanging from his arm, and what looked like a...DVD case?

“Sam called me yesterday and told me I should bring home pizza, beer, and Die Hard. He said you’d be waiting for me.” Cas came down the stairs, effortlessly balancing the delicious treasures in one hand. It was mighty impressive, and that’s why it took Dean a moment to catch on to what Cas said.

“Wait, what? When did Sam call you?” Dean demanded.

“Dean, I just said he called me yesterday. Are you feeling okay?” Cas set everything down on the map table in the middle of the room, reaching his hand out to Dean's forehead, only to have his hand swatted away.

“He said there was a large snow storm moving in, and you didn’t want to be trapped here alone. I’m not sure why you had Sam call me though, you know I would have come home if you asked me.”

Dean knew he was a smart man, he wasn’t Sam smart or even close to Cas smart, but he was no slouch. But as he stood there watching Cas unpack packages of beef jerky, licorice, and pork rinds he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d somehow woke up with brain damage. Cas had his favorite movie, all the best snacks, and was here ready to be snowed in, and all because he thought Dean wanted him to be there. What the hell was going on?

“He also asked me to tell you to move the TV from his room to yours. I’m not sure why, but he said he didn’t want to have to burn his mattress when he got home. I assume you know what that means.”

Oh God, not this again. For the past year, Sam had been giving not so subtle hints that Castiel was in love with him. It started as a joke, but the more Sam talked about it, the more serious he became until he finally convinced himself there was something there between his brother and his angelic best friend.

It was absurd, and Sam couldn’t have been more wrong. First of all, Cas didn’t date. Several men and women had shown interest in him over the years, and he was either oblivious or uninterested. And there was the fact that Dean wasn’t bisexual. Not that there was anything wrong with that, he’d just never been with a guy and never planned on it. Sure there were the _jokes_ that were more truth than he wanted to admit.

_I’d totally go gay for Dr. Sexy. You would too, Sam. Just look at him._

_Gunner Lawless is just such a man’s man. You wish you could be as cool and hot as him, Sam._

_Yes, Sam, I called Cas devastatingly handsome. He is, and he’s just wasting all that potential. He could be hooking up every night. The guy’s a total fox._

But even if all that was different, he still wouldn’t be with Cas. There was no way someone as pure, and kind, and badass as Cas would even consider dating the pond scum that is Dean Winchester—according to Dean himself.

“Fine, I’ll move the TV into my room, but you’re mojoing away the crumbs when we’re done.” Dean pointed his index finger at Cas in an accusatory way. It wasn’t the angel's fault his pesky little brother was meddling, and for once he should try and be a little nicer to Cas. He did just blow off whatever mission he was on to bring snacks and a Christmas classic to Dean.

It didn’t take him long to get the TV moved over, and soon Dean and Cas were cozy on his memory foam watching the best movie ever made and stuffing their faces. Well, Dean was stuffing his face, Cas was picking at a slice of pizza, and sipping a beer.

It was drafty in the bunker, and though he had on a hoodie and sweatpants, Dean was still chilly. He had convinced Cas to get comfortable and loaned him the biggest pair of sleep pants Dean had, and his favorite old t-shirt. Cas had thicker thighs and a more robust posterior than Dean, but he pants seemed to fit him well enough. It sent a chill across his skin looking at the exposed angel. A normal human would be freezing.

“Dean, you’re shivering. Here…” Cas pulled his legs up and wiggled back until he was able to draw the blanket out from under him, encouraging Dean to do the same. There was no use fighting him, and honestly, Cas under the covers would produce enough body heat to get him warm.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, laying next to Cas watching TV was the happiest he’d been in a long time. It sure beat going out and trying to find a rando to hook up with, and Cas always came with a calm silence that was comforting to Dean.

“The snow is starting,” Cas said in the middle of the movie. It was strange that the angel could sense that, but also pretty awesome. The pizza and snacks had been pushed aside, and Dean nursed his last beer. He had a pleasant buzz, and the alcohol had his cheeks burning. It had snowed plenty of times since they moved into the bunker, but he couldn’t remember it ever being this cold inside their home. He might look into getting a space heater if it kept up.

Dean had an absent thought, hoping that Sam made it to where he was going before the expected whiteout conditions hit the Great Plains. He knew his brother would be fine, and if anything happened he would call or pray to Cas, but worrying about Sam was second nature, a base instinct he had since he was four years old.

As the movie played on Dean found himself getting drowsy. It had been late afternoon when Sam left, meaning it wasn’t even close to the time Dean would consider turning in for the night. But he was finally warm and comfortable under the blanket. Cas pressing into his side made him feel safe like he could doze off and between the warding of the bunker and the angel by his side, there was little threat of danger.

It dawned on him just how important that safety was. Really, it was the most valuable thing in his life, and Cas had always put his and Sam’s security above his own. Not even their own father had done that. Bobby would have, hell probably had a time or two, but there was something different about that way Cas protected them with such fervor.

The angel looked after his little brother as if he had been standing right there next to Dean the night John shoved baby Sam in his arms and passed the torch of his care to the oldest Winchester. It made Dean smile to think that maybe he could have been. Mary always told her boys that angels were watching over them, and as he slowly slumped into Cas’ shoulder, he realized what a gift it was to have such an omnipotent creature choose you as their charge.

At some point, while Dean slipped in and out of sleep, the movie had ended, and Cas wrapped his arm around Dean’s shoulders pulling him down to rest on his chest. The hunter snuggled closer remembering the time he almost broke his hand by punching Cas. His stiff posture and jerky movements always made Dean think he was made of marble. But somehow, over the years, Cas gradually softened. His gestures became more fluid and natural looking. It was hard, at times, for Dean to remember that he wasn’t just a hunter they had known their whole lives, but he always had a feeling Cas preferred it that way.

Finally getting tired of fighting his sleep, Dean turned on his side and pressed his entire body against Castiel. The arm he wasn’t lying on wrapped around Cas’ stomach, and he clutched the warm, soft fabric. Cas smelled like a combination of Dean’s favorite fabric softener and that crisp, fresh smell that always followed Cas around. It reminded him of the way the first few drops of rain would smell hitting the red clay dirt when they were traveling the southwest––the iron-rich soil giving storms a unique scent. Something about their mingled fragrances was comforting as if that were the way Dean’s bed should smell. And maybe that was a train of thought he should analyze further, but he was too content to worry himself about it at that moment.

Dean woke several hours later rested, and alone. There was a sinking feeling in his gut that maybe he’d pushed Cas too far or crossed that imaginary line they both knew existed but were too scared even to acknowledge, much less cross––worried of what it might mean. Cas had probably only wrapped his arm around Dean to make himself more comfortable, and Dean in his vulnerable and tired state took advantage of what Cas had offered. It would be easy enough to write it off at least. Dean could pretend he didn’t know he did it. He’d just tell Cas that he must have thought he was sleeping next to someone else, one of his bar conquests maybe. But even considering that made Dean’s stomach twist in knots. That wasn’t what it was, and if Dean would be honest with himself for once, he could admit that laying in Cas’ arms was the best he’d ever felt.

But how would Cas react to that? Sure, he would let Dean down easily, but then what? Would he be too uncomfortable to stick around? Would there suddenly be more reason for Cas to work solo missions? Not that he was around all that much anyway, but what if he wanted to stay gone because Dean went and made it weird?

He was startled from his self-loathing when Cas pushed through his bedroom door. He was still wearing Dean’s clothes but had put his trench coat back on. His hair had lingering snowflakes, and he was smiling like he’d spent the last hour playing with kittens.

“Oh good, you’re up,” Cas said as the door clicked shut behind him. “I have something I’d like to show you, but it's outside.” Cas lowered his gaze, and his boyish grin turned shy.

Dean wanted to kick himself for his earlier panic. Blame his shity life, but jumping to the worst conclusion was usually his first reaction, and all too often he was right. But never with Cas. No matter what they have done to each other, they were always willing to make or accept an apology and move on. It was absurd to think a little cuddling would be the thing that was unforgivable.

He slowly crawled out from under the covers and rested his feet on the cold concrete floor. It took a moment for the sleepy fog to clear, but soon enough he was up and looking for his boots.

Cas waited patiently near the door with the corners of his mouth turned up. It was the most excited he'd ever seen Cas, and the curiosity of what had him so anxious made Dean hustle. Going out in a snowstorm would have been enough to have Dean bitching and complaining, but the anticipation had him bundled up and ready to face the weather in no time.

He wordlessly followed Cas up the stairs, his mind running through endless possibilities of what Cas wanted him to see. It could be anything from a snowman to a damn dragon, but a cool dragon like the ones from Game of Thrones, not the dumb real life dragons they dealt with a few years back.

It was startling to see how much snow had fallen since he'd been asleep, and he wondered if this was considered a blizzard. Whatever Cas was showing him better be worth walking through calf-deep snow.

When they rounded the corner of the bunker, Dean stopped, his breath catching in his throat. He didn't know what he was looking at, but it was unlike anything he'd ever seen.

“Cas? What is this?” Dean whispered, and if his friend didn't have angelic hearing, there was no way he would have known what Dean said.

“I wanted to make a snow angel,” Cas said demurely. “I thought it would be funny to imprint my wings into the snow, instead of doing the classic human version of a snow angel, which is highly inaccurate by the way.”

“Yeah, but why does it look like that?”

Dean was staring at the ground where a simple outline of a man's body and bird-like wings should have been imprinted into the snow. Instead, there was a rainbow of color reaching up to the sky in streaks of vibrant hues. The indent of Cas' wings glowed brightly on the ground and light stretched up around it, in a waterfall of color.

Where the expansive sky would usually be dark, a pale emerald green tint floated in waves, as if Cas took acrylic paint to the atmosphere. The shape of his wing broke up the color letting several stars shine through the opening.

The black of night faded from the tips of the feathers down into a rich plum color that barely peeked through. Where the appendages met Cas' back, there was a magenta that bled into the plum and swooped out into a deep denim blue.

The sky looked like an Aurora Borealis with Cas' wing outlined right in the middle. In all his years of travel, and all the sunsets he'd seen there was nothing in his life to compare to the beauty of what Cas was showing him.

“How are you doing this?" He probed after remembering Cas hadn't answered his initial question.

“My wings are non-corporeal, and on earth, they are perceived as gaseous particles. When I brought my them to this plane, the energy I used to materialize them caused a collision between the atmosphere of the earth and created something similar to the northern lights. I didn't know it would happen, but I should have guessed.”

“It's awesome,” Dean said.

Cas closed his eyes and took a long breath. The air around him was shuddering, sounding like Cas was leaving. Only, he was still standing in front of Dean. Behind him, a wave of iridescent light shifted and stretched, taking the shape of Castiel's wings.

“Are those––”

“My wings? Yes.” Cas looked behind him and the light reflected at different angles.

“I was hoping you would stay with me and watch the lights for a while. You can lay on my wing to keep from getting wet.” The expanse of illumination burned brighter as it reached for Dean.

“It won't hurt you?” Dean asked, stretching his hand out. He imagined his fingers going through the wavelength, but it was surprisingly solid and downy soft, the way a real feather would be. He wanted to bury himself in the cozy tufts and go back to sleep.

“No Dean, it won't hurt me,” Cas stated, giving Dean an encouraging look.

“Okay.”

Cas settled himself into his already formed indent in the snow, but instead of stretching his wing out, he pulled it close to his body. The snow sparkled with a rainbow of color under the translucent appendage. It gave Dean pause, not looking capable of keeping him dry, but at his hesitation, Cas assured him the wing would be fine.

Reluctantly, Dean lowered himself down, trying not to hurt his friend. He didn't know the sensitivity level of an angel's wing, but he was pretty sure taking a knee would hurt like hell. After some careful maneuvering, Dean was able to sidle up to Cas. Without giving it a second thought, Castiel lifted his arm, giving Dean a space to lay his head, proving to Dean that they had nothing to worry about, and seemingly Cas liked cuddling just as much.

Dean's cheek rested against Cas' chest. The air wasn't biting cold, but it was a couple of degrees cooler than chilly, as the snow continued to fall.  He didn't want to go inside and miss the show of a lifetime, but he would be uncomfortable before too long and was already starting to shiver.

Movement from the corner of his eye drew Dean's attention, and he watched as Cas' other wing reached around both men and laid over them like a down comforter. It felt like Cas' feathers were tucking in around him, keeping out the low flowing wind. It wasn't as comfortable as his memory foam, but the bed of snow wasn't as hard on his back as he was expecting.

They lay there for what could have been hours in the silent night air before Cas insisted they go in. The rest of the light faded and there was only a trace of the green lingering. Dean was ready to retreat back inside at Cas' suggestion, longing for the warmth of the bunker.

Dean's pants were soaked to the knees by the time both men stood outside the hunter's bedroom door. He wanted to invite Cas back in and tell him sleeping next to the angel was the best rest he'd even gotten and would love a repeat, but the words wouldn't come. What if Sam had been wrong? It was likely Cas was just bad a being a human, and his little brother had been reading too much into their friendship.

But Cas was still lingering, looking down at his shoes in an awkward gesture he wasn't used to seeing on his stoic friend. Is it possible he was stalling because he was having the same internal struggle as Dean?

“Hey, um, wanna watch another movie?” Dean chanced. If Cas didn't want to, it would be easy enough to turn down, and there would be nothing weird to deal with in the future.

“Yes, I'd like that,” Cas responded.

“Awesome.” Dean turned and went straight for his dresser, digging for something dry to change into.

“Did you have your heart set on a movie, or can I put on something else?” Cas asked while Dean was elbow deep in his middle drawer. He rarely wore pants to bed, and the few pairs of pajama bottoms he had were now soaking wet or in his dirty laundry.

“Sure, put on whatever,” Dean called out behind him, still hoping to scrummage up a pair of basketball shorts. He stood up and turned, planning on telling Cas he was going to Sam's room to rummage through his dresser, but his breath caught seeing Cas standing in the middle of his bedroom wearing nothing but a thin cotton shirt, and his black boxer briefs.

“Is this a problem?” Cas looked down self-consciously.

“No, not at all. I was just going to say I don't have any other pants so..."

Dean shucked his own bottoms after kicking off his boots and throwing his hoodie into the dirty clothes basket. He debated on digging out one of his long sleeve henley shirts but decided against it as he crawled into bed. Cas was standing on the other side still fiddling with the remote, and Dean hoped he didn't pick something lame to watch.

He was adjusting the sheets and blankets when he heard the crackle of a fire. His head popped up, and he half expected Cas to have mojoed a working fireplace right into his room. He was relieved to find it was only the image of a fire burning on the TV screen with authentic sounds of wood popping and crackling.

Both men leaned back against the headboard with their bodies turned in toward one another, their backs resting against pillows. “Dean, I had a good time today. Thank you for asking me to come back home," Cas said.

The air was thick with tension, and Dean had to remind himself to keep a straight face at Cas' gratitude. The truth was, he hadn't asked his friend to come home, but apparently, his stupid little brother knew more about what Dean wanted than he did. That was a confession to make another time, and Dean reminded himself to thank Sam for his meddling when get got back.

“It was a good day. We should do this more often," Dean suggested, and adjusted his position in the bed. He wanted to shift closer to Cas without making it completely obvious. Cas copied his movements only he didn't try to conceal himself as he pushed into Dean's space. One session of cuddling and Cas completely forgot about the personal space rule, but Dean didn't mind. One of them had to be brave enough to take the step, and by the looks of things, it was going to be Cas.

“Dean, is this weird?" the angel asked, his face no more than two inches away.

“No," Dean breathed. But if he was handing control over to Cas, he wanted to make it clear that was his intention. “I actually, uh, like it.” His eyes dropped down to his hands where they lay in his lap, watching as his fingers fidget.

“Me too. There is something else I would like to try, but I'm afraid you won't like it.” Cas' eyes bounced back and forth, looking Dean over for a sign of distress. A signal that he didn't want to know what the new things was. But Dean had no hesitation, whatever Cas wanted, he was finally ready to give. Sam would hound him a big fat I told you so, but it would be worth it if he got to lay with Cas every night, turning his room into a warm, safe place.

“You can try whatever you want, Cas. I, um, I think, I'm pretty sure I'll like it," Dean confessed and leaned forward, leaving no room for Castiel to doubt.

The angel wasn't always savvy to pop culture or colloquialisms, but he understood exactly what Dean needed him to know. The hunter's heart rate picked up as Cas inched forward, giving him time to pull away if he changed his mind. Seeing that his intent was clear, and Dean wasn't backing down, Cas reached up and wrapped his long elegant fingers around Dean's neck and gently tugged him forward.

Their lips met with a hard smack, and Dean chuckled under his breath at Cas' enthusiasm. Their mouths worked together, surprising Dean at how normal the kiss felt. He was expecting some internal panic, some level of uncertainty, but having Cas so close to him felt like coming home after a long hunt. It was better than a hot shower, or a nice bottle of whiskey.

Their kisses stayed shy and timid until Dean had to break away to catch his breath.

“You should sleep now," Cas said.

“Okay," Dean replied drowsily. “But will you stay?"

“Of course, Dean.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> The photo used for the title banner is obviously not my photo. I found it on https://www.smithsonianmag.com/travel/guide-seeing-alaskas-northern-lights-180967148/?fbclid=IwAR0XDtG6v90aAFUhAzs4bpauCmDIp46XsG94u0qmb8VwITdaJCy29OYM_6c


End file.
